Greetings, Brother - Harry Potter AU
by TheThirdOdd
Summary: In a war-torn universe in which Sirius is locked in animal form, James and Lily live on, and Harry Potter never became famous, Hermione Granger escapes a five year confinement and begins a mission to find her friends once more. Faced with limitless enemies, above all the nefarious Keepers, Hermione will need all her strength and wits to survive.
1. Chapter 1

Greetings, Brother | Harry Potter AU

Hermione woke to growling. Fumbling next to her for her wand, she yawned and, covering her eyes, murmured, 'Lumos.' Her cell sprung to light, her wand tip illuminating the rough stone walls not five feet from her face and the cracked floor on which she lay. She shuffled into a sitting position, ignoring the now ever more insistent growls, verging on barks. After all, she reasoned with herself, it was most likely just some Animagi sympathizer sent by the Keepers to taunt her. There was no way it could be him, surely? Yet a sliver of doubt still managed to worm it's way into her mind, staying sentient there as she crawled the last few paces to the rough bars blocking off the outside.

Through the bars she could see a courtyard, paved in the same grey slabs as every cell. The courtyard itself was walled in on three sides by cells like hers, stacked on top of one another like Tetris blocks, random variations of grey. The fourth wall, however, was dominated by a crude and simple gate- it wasn't the fortress's main defense, and no one escaped the cells anyway. Beyond the gate, she knew, was a long swathe of pure concrete, bordered by 50 metre high walls and automatic guns, set to shoot whatever they detected. The compound had no guards; there was no need for them. It was robotic.

In the centre of the courtyard stood a shaggy black hound which, as soon as it saw her, bounded closer to her window. Hermione gazed at it in confusion. Was she going mad? The dog was scruffy, unwashed looking with matted fur and a torn up ear, but all the same, it looked uncannily like Padfoot, with the same exited glint in it's eye as he always had... No, Hermione told herself. It would do no good to think of _them_. It would just disappoint her when they didn't come back, and then the Keepers would have power over her. The dog padded ever closer, reaching out with it's snout to nuzzle the window. If it could have talked, it would probably have said 'What are you playing at? Notice me!' But Hermione refused to let herself. The last time she had seen them was years ago, and they were probably far away now, leaving her abandoned to her fate. All the same, however, Hermione wanted so painfully for it to be true.

Belatedly, an idea flashed in her mind. The Keepers couldn't read secrets, and lord knows she had a lot of them. Back when she lived in the house with the others, she and Sirius had their own secret language. Maybe Padfoot still remembered? She knew it was a long shot, but if Padfoot had retained Sirius's non-essential memories after the transformation... A furtive glance around was all it took for Hermione to determine they were safe. She leaned forward, and murmured a word. Just one. The single word was her favorite term, the meaning simple. _Greetings, brother._ The hound's eyes lit up, and he pawed at the bars excitedly, brushing Hermione's face with stray fur. Hermione beamed, a giggle escaping, one that hadn't come since they were all together. Since they were all human.

'How did you get in?' She whispered lightly. Padfoot's expression changed, a crude impression of a secretive smile on his muzzle. _Well, _Hermione thought. _Some things didn't change since I saw him. He's still as deviant as ever._ 'Well,' Hermione murmured. 'If you're not going to tell me that, explain how you're going to get me out.' The dog's expression fell. His plan consisted mainly of getting _in_ to the compound- he had no idea of an exit strategy. His thought processes rarely consisted of anything other than "get in, make magic-ey wooshy stuff, get out". He cocked his head, thinking. Hermione sighed, sliding down the walll. 'If you've got no plans,' she started, 'you'd best just go. Leave me to my fate.' Melodramatic as it was, Hermione decided she certainly had the right- she'd been secreted away for five years, after all.

Suddenly, said wall was gone, and Hermione fell backwards, face up to the empty sky, Padfoot's paw in her peripheral vision. A groan escaped her, then an elated laugh, sounds escaping her like she escaped her confinement. Padfoot's grin now seemed to say 'get in done, magic-ey stuff done, now for the out.' _actually, _thought Hermione, _I know how to get out. I know exactly how._ Hermione memorized maps for fun. It was one of the few things to do in this prison, and the map of the fortress was one of her most well , she reasoned with herself, if she could get out of anywhere, it would be here.


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione and Padfoot stepped out into the greass bordering the compound- her, calmly seated on the hound's back. It was evident both of them needed a wash, but they were far too caught up in the happiness of the moment to give a damn.

Stepping down from her new found mount, Hermione let herself collapse on to the grass, basking in the cool night. A long, drawn out sigh of relief later, and she was giggling ecstatically, shouting to the moon, 'I'm free! I'm finally free!'

Padfoot nudged her with his snout, trying to make her get up, but Hermione resisted. She'd just escaped, couldn't she relax some? Padfoot's nudges grew more insistent, intermixed with low growls in the back of his throat. Hermione looked at him, confused. Was there someone coming? She then looked behind her. Sure enough, on the trail behind her, were three approaching men.

Hermione called out. 'Hello?' One of the men, the largest of the three, stepped forward, a cruel glint in his eyes. 'Hello pretty girl,' he purred, sckening softness in his voice. 'You look lost. We can show you the way home if you'd like?'

Hermione smiled sweetly, playing the innocent little girl game. Despite being the tender age of seventeen, she still managed to retain a face of purity and kindness. 'Oh, thank you good sirs, but I think I'll be alright.' She gestured to Padfoot, continuing, 'I do have my pet dog with me, after all.' Padfoot glared at her. He was _not_ a 'pet'. He was a perfectly refined, lordly mast- ooh, squirrel!

The men snorted, seeing Padfoot's reaction, whilst the man in the middle- the one who had spoken previously- grew more threatening. 'Look, girly,' he growled, bearing the face of someone who was well used to getting his way. 'You'll come with us if you know what's good for you. I'm not about to give up such a prize, you'll earn me good money in the ring.' Hermione stopped short. The ring? These men were working in the ring? The ring was a wizard-run building, previously used as a court to trial Keepers, but after the Keeper overthrow, it became a place of demon worship and the scene of weekly fights. Hermione shuddered. Only the worst of people willingly went there.

Hermione stood, and with fists tightly bunched and wand hidden away in her pocket, stepped closer to the men. Padfoot watched her warily, no doubt preparing to attack the men if harm should come to her. He wasn't about to lose her again! Bounding to her side, he approached with her, looking less like a 'pet dog' now and more like a feral wolf, ready to fight to the death to protect what he loved.

The two men too the sides stepped back, warily. Hermione had a dangerous glint in her eyes, and they sure as hell weren't going to risk this. The man in the middle glared at them, no doubt cursing them for their cowardice. 'Come on, girl, surely there's no need for such a threatening pose. It's not like you're going to beat me anyway, so why not just come nicely now?' The man in the middle was obviously either dangerously reckless or just plain insane, considering the fact that for whatever reason he paid no heed to the murderous look in Hermione's eyes. He just kept stepping closer and closer, the same sickening grin on his face.

Hermione laughed, a tinkling giggle that was so unlike the look on her face. The man looked at her confused, caution finally starting to show on his face. Hermione, silently, drew her wand from her pocket and muttered an incantation. 'Petrificus Totalus.' The man froze, though whether that was originallly down to fear or the spell, Hermione did not know. As soon as the man went still, however, Hermione and Padfoot were on their feet running away once more. Once the man was free, Hermione could hear him shouting at his companions, the voices rendered faint by the distance.

After many an hour of travelling, Hermione and Padfoot reached a small, abandoned town that Hermione remembered as their first hiding place. The whole town had been attacked by a horde of Keepers, and Hermione and the rest had to run to escape. Hermione traced the wall of one of the buildings, absentmindedly, running her fingers over the rough stone, and smiling sadly as she realized that she was doing exactly what she used to do when she was five years of age. Back when she was that young, Wizards and Muggles lived together- there was never any wars, and certainly no Keepers. Looking around, Hermione approached the larges building- the one the villagers used to use as a temple at the start of the war. Most villages had a building like this, to keep memories of the fallen.

Hermione and Padfoot stepped inside, silence descending on them like a blanket, covering and choking. The hall was only partially illuminated, but Hermione made no move to light it up, feeling like that would be an unforgivable act. The room was large, with wood paneling on the walls, albeit cracked and slightly burnt over the years. Three walls were bare, the wallpaper showing, grimy and dusty. The fourth wall was covered with scarves, in orderly rows along the wall. Each scarf had the name of a person below it, acting as the only form of memorial. Hermione could remember the day when this was created.

_Remus stepped outside the door, a sad look on his face. 'I'll be back soon.' He promised. Hermione sat with Harry and Ron, oblivious to Remus's mission, content to just keep on playing with her dolls and reading her kid books. Remus went from house to house, taking a scarf belonging to every person who had fallen to the first wave of the keepers. Later that night, along with everyone else in the village, Hermione and the group all traveled to the hall together. They all stood there in silence, Hermione clutching Sirius's hand, with Ron and Harry on his other side. Remus and James took the scarves one by one, and nailed them to the wall, adding a plaque bearing the owner's name below them. There were so many, that Hermione began to fear that the ceremony would last forever. But it didn't. Nothing lasted forever._

Hermione stood there in the half light, counting the scarves as she used to do as a child. Sirius accompanied her then, and Padfoot stood next to her now. Tears stung Hermione's eyes as she finished counting, saddened at the sheer amount on the wall. 573 scarves. 573 lives lost. Too many.


	3. Chapter 3

That night, Hermione dreamt of Keepers. She was stood alone in the hall, facing a singular scarf, the walls crowding around her, stiflingly close. The space grew ever smaller, until she was face to face with a red and gold scarf- Harry's. She ran her hands over it, feeling it's texture, until it started to melt, colours running down the wall and pooling around her shoes like some grotesque kind of sludge. Hermione screamed, but no sound came- just pressing panic and fear. The sludge wrapped around her ankles, taking form as it spread up her legs. Suddenly, she was rigid, unable to move no matter how much she tried to thrash and struggle. The sludge, once reaching her heart, split from her body, taking on a form of it's own. A form of a Keeper. Features began to appear on it, though it remained faceless- the black and grey uniform of the keeper generals she had seen marching through the streets as a child. But, the thing that scared her most, was the other features it took on. Harry's glasses. Padfoot's tail. Werewolf-Remus's ears. Ron's freckles and violently ginger hair.

The _thing _took her hand and led her in an extremely fast waltz. Round and round the room they went, until Hermione's head was spinning, and she wanted to throw up. Suddenly, they came to a halt, back at their starting position. The wall was no longer empty. Row upon row of Keepers were crowding around her, filling up every last space in the hall, yet the original keeper was gone. In Hermione's hand was a hammer. The same hammer Remus held when he and James put the original scarves up. Except Remus was not here. Hermione looked at the wall, then wished she hadn't. She tried to turn her head, but she could not- locked into place by the dream, in the way dreams often manipulate. The wall was filled haphazardly with scarves and names, people she knew. Each scarf was in disrepair, shoddily hung up. Hermione read the names. Harry. Ron. James. Sirius. Remus. Lily. On and on the list went, everyone she had ever known or seen had a place. And then she came to the last scarf. Hermione Granger. Her screams were drowned out by everything breaking.

Hermione woke up in the middle of the night, drenched in cold sweat. Despite being awake now, the dream still plagued her; every turn caused shivers, and when she adjusted her blanket she felt smothered, as if she was drowning. She obviously wasn't going to get any sleep, so she slipped out of the house, making sure she didn't wake up Padfoot. Wandering around the village, she breathed in the calm night air, trying to force her nerves to relax. Her eyes locked on to a singular house, set back from the rest- a house that even when it was occupied managed to look rugged and run down. Hermione headed towards it, hoping to find some solace in her memories.

She took shelter in the lounge room- which, like all the rooms, was a mess; cardboard boxes holding all sorts of items were strewn everywhere, intermixed with a range of strange items- a stereo, broken wires, a crooked painting leaning one one wall, and many broken looking seats. Hermione curled up on one of the seats, and looking like a small cat with her legs tucked under her, went to sleep.

The next morning was uneventful at first. They foraged for food in the pantries of less run down houses, and when that didn't work, Hermione summoned some. Around midday was the time they packed up, ready to continue with their journey. Evidently this would be the part in which Padfoot took the lead- he allowed no different. Everything about him was more leader like- even his raggedy fur shone with an air of commanding grace. That is, until they reached their transport.

'Like hell you came here in that.' Hermione said, looking at the beaten up Ford. 'It's one thing Ron driving it, but Ron wasn't a dog!' Padfoot glared at Hermione, then nosed the passenger side door. It was obvious he wanted Hermione to get in. 'No. No way am I getting in that... death trap. Not with an animal driving.' Padfoot barked at the door, then gave an insistent whine. It echoed around the buildings for a moment, before dying out, smothered by the empty silence. 'No.' Hermione declared firmly. 'I refuse to get in. You're not human anymore, and not-humans don't drive cars.' Padfoot jumped up, and nipped Hermione's hand. 'Ow! Bitch!' Hermione exclaimed, watching the blood well from the slight cut. Then, seeing Padfoot's expression, she sighed and climbed in the car. 'Fine, but if we crash I'm neutering you.' Padfoot glared at her, wincing at the prospect, before he leaped into the driver's seat. It seemed one of the others had fitted the car for this sole purpose- the steering wheel was not so much a wheel as a bar that Padfoot could grip and move with his teeth- much like a boat's rudder. The acceleration and break had been converted to buttons on either side of the 'wheel', so Padfoot could jab the correct one. As far as functional things went, that was all that had been altered, but someone had apparently decided to hang a working disco ball from the roof. A disco ball that, Hermione noticed, was currently turned on.

While the car was going, all was silent. There was no music, nor was there sound, save for the occasional growl coming from Padfoot if he ever dropped the wheel. He had an air of docility around him- Sirius loved to drive and so, it seemed, did Padfoot. As calming as the drive was, Hermione was kept on the edge of her seat by the sheer fact that she was being driven by a dog. Every time they passed a cliff or any other kind of steep hill, her heart leapt into her throat for fear that the car would overturn and slide down, killing them somehow.

Nonetheless, Padfoot proved to be an incredibly adept driver, making no mistakes, driving carefully around any hazards and never going over the defunct speed limits. He drove so well that the rare car that they did pass gave theirs no second glance, assuming, of course, that because the car was performing so well, it had to be a human driving. Of course, though, because everything was going so well, Hermione couldn't help but be a little bored- especially by the fifth hour of driving. And, knowing the others, their destination was bound to be a very long time away,

Hermione sighed, leaning back in her seat. This was going to be a long ride...


	4. Chapter 4

The car swerved, followed by a sickening crash. Hermione screamed, as the vehicle overturned and started to roll down a steep incline. What seemed like hours of falling must have only been seconds, yet to Hermione, that was all the time it took for her to assume she had to be dying. The car hit bump after bump, and inside it was no less chaotic. There was blood everywhere, from where Padfoot had hit his head on impact, and the seats were a wreck. The back seats had been filled with items, which were now strewn around everywhere, with some of them spilt.

When the car finally slowed to a stop, Hermione sat back in her seat and sighed, a ragged breath. She looked down and, with a kind of oblivious detachment, surveyed the damage. The car was a wreck; doors were smashed in, there was a tear in the roof, and most, if not all, of the seat coverings were split. Padfoot was lying, passed out, on his seat, with the kind of vacant-eyed expression one can not help but associate with the deeply asleep.

Hermione herself was in a rather bad state- her elbow was a bloody mess, and she could feel what had to be a thousand bruises blooming all over her. Her wand lay next to her, split in two, and it was this that she stared at in incredulous anger and sadness. Her wand had been her only possession after she was taken away, and now she didn't even own that.

Hermione, leaving Padfoot in the car, climbed out into the air to survey the exterior damage. Most of the car itself was dented or had gouges and scratches cut out of it, and one tire was missing, but other than that the car seemed relatively unscathed.

Hermione took a step back and breathed in. Close by, she could hear the sound of running footsteps. She turned towards them. Heading towards her was a group of men and women, all relatively lithe and fit. They looked similar somehow, but Hermione couldn't recognize them. One of the women, a brunette with piercing blue eyes, stepped forward and introduced herself with a thick Russian accent. 'Hello, my name is Charlotta. We heard a crash; what happened?' Hermione didn't feel the need to explain, so she just waved her arm over the car, letting the group take in the damage for themselves.

The woman gasped, seeing Padfoot inside. 'Your dog- is it okay?' Hermione nodded, confident Padfoot would, indeed, be okay. The lady looked skeptical, but nontheless she dropped it. Perhaps, though, Hermione shouldn't have taken that as a reason to let her guard down, because the moment she did the woman ripped off her jacket, leaving the bland uniform of the Keepers. Hermione panicked, backing up as the group started to advance towards her. Once her back was pressed to the cool metal of the car, however, she was trapped. With nowhere to go, a terrific rage filled her, and she lashed out, scratching and kicking anything and anyone that came into reach.

Though no match for the people by herself, the adrenaline coursing through her veins enabled her to keep the Keepers at bay until Padfoot, roused by the noise, leapt out of the car and joined the fray. Screams filled the air as his teeth sunk into any and all skin that he could find- except Hermione's that is. together they made an incredible team- even wandless Hermione was a force tp be reckoned with when the rage filled her. She had, of course, fought with people before; no one in her house was a stranger to physical altercations, but nonetheless, fighting of this magnitude was verging on impossible for her, and if the Keepers hadn't left when they had- vanishing into thin air- she would have been putty in their hands.

nonetheless, vanish they did, and Hermione collapsed to the ground, settling into a well needed slumber, with Padfoot standing guard over her.

Short one today, I guess. Hey, what can I say- I'm tired, and I have a German exam tomorrow. Ew. I'll try and write longer ones again tomorrow, but I don't know. Depends I'll write something, at least. ^.^


	5. Chapter 5

They were on the road again. In a stolen car. Which, Hermione reflected, was a lot easier to get hold of than she would have thought. All it had taken was nimble fingers and Padfoot's insistent barking at the right wires to cut - how _did _ Padfoot learn how too hijack cars? Hermione decided not to delve - and Hermione was seated snugly behind the wheel of a brand new, state-of-the-art BMW. 'You know,' she said as she drove. 'You're a dog. I don't even know if it's illegal for dogs to steal cars. Or witches for that matter. So if we go to court, and the judge tries to give us a sentence, we can just say something like "But Sir., it's totally legal for us to have done it. It says people can't steal cars- not a seventeen year old witch and a dog." And the judge will have to accept it. We could be, like, master criminals, and it won't matter whether we get caught because they won't be able to charge us with anything.' Padfoot looked at her strangely, no doubt wondering when it was that he started rubbing off on her. It wasn't his fault that James and Remus were bad influences! They were just... having fun?

Hours later, they were pulling into a small town. Padfoot barked at a road sign, and Hermione slowed the car down for a turn. _Privet Drive_. Hermione was confused momentarily. Why did that name seem familiar? She'd never seen it before. Neatly mowed lawns with flagstone paths leading up to cheerily painted front doors liked both sides of the street, with pavements taken perfect care of. It all just seemed so... perfect. The sort of place where a mother and a father would bring up two perfectly well behaved little kids. It seemed like the home she never had. The home she never wanted.

She looked around, knowing that one of these houses held her own little family, and all the friends she would ever want.

The suspense was killing her. She couldn't wait to see them. Padfoot barked. She pulled the car into a driveway. They stepped out. Padfoot followed. She walked to the door. Putt her hand on the knob. This was it. It was actually happening. She was going to see everyone again after so long.

The door opened into a cramped hallway with stairs off to one side. Under the stairs was a little door, open. A boy stepped out, wiping his face with the back of his sleeve. 'Hey, welcome home, Padfoot,' he was saying. 'You were gone a wh- Hey, is that... Hermione! Hermione you're back! Everyone come quick, Hermione's home!' The boy was yelling, glee on his face. All of a sudden, the hall was crowded with people trying to get closer to her. All of them faces she thought she'd never see again. Hermione hugged and kissed, laughed with and cried with faces she thought she'd lost forever. Ron. Harry. Remus. James. Lily. Everyone here. Everyone safe. Everyone free- except for her.

Confinement doesn't end when the walls break down- confinement ends when the rubble is cleared and the after effects cease to exist. Confinement ends when no one is left to know it happened. When ignorance reigns.

The worst prisons have no bars, only the memories of isolation. The worst prisons are inescapable. They are in one's mind.


End file.
